


fate grand fuckery

by orphan_account, RNBW_Red



Category: Fate/Grand Order
Genre: Chaldea, F/F, F/M, FGO - Freeform, Fate Grand Order - Freeform, Fate Series - Freeform, M/M, Multi, Other, chaldea shenanigans, fate servants basically doing dumbass shit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 02:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21403000
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account, https://archiveofourown.org/users/RNBW_Red/pseuds/RNBW_Red
Summary: shenanigans happen in chaldea. your servants are tired of being nice and now they've gone feral.
Kudos: 12





	1. Admin's Maid Cafe

Admin Gudako and Caster Gilles had joined forces and used his territory creation to make the maid cafe they both dreamed of with a degenerative look in their eyes.

It has been two weeks since and Admin's favorite Servants have been condemned to work at the accursed maid cafe.  
Diarmuid watched in the midst of the madness, and immediately he was thrust upon the role of being a fucking maid.  
He had escaped Admin's sex dungeon, Medb's, and Carmilla's. He could handle the CBT. But nothing could prepare him for this fucking job. He was an inch away from killing himself and escaping the bondage of having to live in Chaldea.

The maid cafe was quiet today. Medea made him a brand new, even skimpier maid dress, and Diarmuid was constantly pulling at the skirt because it was so short. He could never be a hoe, even if he did hate himself.

Sometimes if he was quiet enough he could hear Da Vinci's sweatshop in the distance. But his mind wandered that morning. He missed Arthur, he hadn't seen him since ArthurFucker420_69 came around armed with chloroform.

The smell of weed brownies (created by Robin of course) wafted from the kitchen, and it was the one thing Diarmuid looked forward to once he was able to clock out. He would get completely off the shits with Robin and the gang to forget about his slutty, slutty reality.

In the lobby, he would wait for a customer next to his colleagues, Hundred Personas and Astolfo.  
Both of them wore suits. Not Diarmuid though. What the fuck. Astolfo was clearly the most feminine looking but he had his own butler outfit. The fact that Diarmuid had to wear a fucking skanky ass skirt only further proved the fact that Admin is a whole ass freak.  
He briefly recalled the time that Admin threw a tube top at him and told him to go make her some money, bitch.

It was as if Hundred Personas was sapping him of his pride (and testosterone) with her massive dick energy alone just by standing next to him. He planned his suicide during this time.  
"Your skirt is short." Hundred Personas said as she straightened her bowtie. She emanated a strong lesbian energy in her suit.

Diarmuid was the color of a communist manifesto at that point. By this time, he learned to sob on the inside. "Medea shortens it every week."

"Fagit." Hundred Personas said with a straight face. 

Astolfo nodded in agreement and signed a cross from his forehead and across his heart. "Jesus hates figs. Mark 11:12-15."

The three didn't exchange words after that. Diarmuid wished Admin actually hated him and condemned him to be a trashman after spitting on him, like Artoria.  
Speak of the FUCKING Devil.

Admin pulls up to the maid cafe and plug walks to Diarmuid. As she does so, she fires her glock into the fucking ceiling.

"Shit, I thought you replaced the glock with the pepperbox pistol." Hundred Personas said.

Astolfo frowned. "I did, but Admin has TWO glocks."

"Buenos Dias." She smacced Diarmuid's ass loud enough to deafen the entire room. "Looking tasty, Deermud. I've brought my NP3 Nurse to protect me." She motioned to Nightingale.

Nightingale almost didn't hear her because her ears were still ringing. She made a clear and crisp snap with her gloves that no one heard. "Here for your weekly Cock and Ball Torture session."

"Oh shit, Admin's here" Emiya said from the kitchen, wearing nothing but an apron. Robin skidded past him as he and Billy went joyriding on giant ass industrial fans to clear the fogginess so they could actually see their own hands. Their hotbox was dissipating.  
Ever since Sherlock was sent to rehab for his crack addiction it's been harder and harder to get weed. Life was difficult in Chaldea.

Admin Gudako manspread in her seat as Diarmuid waited her. Diligently, his eyes wandered around the cafe for something that could end his life quickly. "How may I serve you?" He asked verbatim, on the verge of tears.

"I desire oats." She put a hand on her chin thoughtfully, the tampons in her nose vibrated.

He laughed uncomfortably. "Oats?"

"O A T."

"I…" It was at that moment Diarmuid started sobbing uncontrollably.

"Pathetic." Admin said nothing for a moment, a hint of disgust on her face. "Sadness doesn't suit you, Diarmuid."

He sniffled. She never pronounced his name correctly. 

"Here, I have a present for you." Gudako whipped out a wrapped gift box and ushered it to him.

Diarmuid took it with trembling hands. If he got another ball gag he may actually kill himself. Inside the box there was…  
A chainmail bra and g-string.

"You have a wealth of kindness 😔" Diarmuid said, still crying.

"I know. I'm waiting on my XXL Grand Leather set from Amazon. That bitch Penthesilea ate shit because she said I "bought out the entire stock." And that I, "need to leave her room." She's dead now." Admin laughed, dabbing a little.

Diarmuid retched at her dab. A single teardrop fell onto the chainmail bra. He could not handle this torment anymore. He very much had the capabilities of commiting autoerotic asphyxiation and no other servant would have to see because everyone else huddles in the kitchen with the weed brownies when Admin came around. 

"Also, I have another gift." Admin continued, then whipped out a-- The Fucking Holy Grail. "This is for you. Please take this and increase your level cap."

Diarmuid started crying harder. "But Admin, you never fully leveled me because TouhouSniper98 said I was useless. All you did was ascend me once then put me in the second archive (sex dungeon)"

"Perhaps." Admin hummed. "take it you ungrateful fuck." She threw it at Diarmuid.

"Oof" The Grail hit him on the head and unfortunately, he was still alive. Only mildly hurt. He remembered when Kayneth was his Master he genuinely did not have a wish for a grail, no materialistic desires polluted his sense of loyalty. But Dear God if he didn't want to kill himself right now...

"You don't seem grateful 😤 why can't DW add dialogue for servants if they're grailed?" Admin said, deep in thought.

"I am very grateful." He lied.

"You're lying."

"Absolutely not." He lied.

"Very well then." Admin stood up, sizing up the quivering Diarmuid. "I am doing this for your own good, Gimp-muid." The back of her hand glowed with the command seal she was about to use.

"Wh" Gimp-muid's voice trailed off, holding out a beseeching hand. Admin was going to pimp slap the shit out of him again. He swore to god that she sent him into celestial fucking orbit. But as it turns out, it was something even worse.

"By order of my command seal; Diarmuid, develop Stockholm syndrome for me!"

"Admin, wait-" But there was no waiting. Only the lack of a presence inside Diarmuid. The lack of his desire to fucking die.

**TO BE CONTINUED**


	2. part two... fate grand detroit (and a return from rehab)

Ever since Diarmuid left for Admin Gudako, Robin Hood's weed brownies have been going to waste. He would remember how Diarmuid would feverishly eat them while crying, and now there's really no one to finish them all anymore.

The next few weeks were quiet. Robin could swear he heard screams come from the depths of Admin's second archive (sex dungeon), but he just brushed them off as his schizophrenic delusions because he was off his meds.

Nightingale eventually had said fuck it once she realized literally every servant was depressed and chewed away the antidepressant stock and just reccomended getting stoned. Life was hard in Chaldea.

The weed supply was beginning to run low, and just before Chaldea turned into a miniature Detroit for the rest of the weed, Sherlock returned from rehab for his crack addiction!

"What is up, my fellow homos." Sherlock's bitchass said, pulling up to the control room. Little did he realize that the control room was empty ever since Da Vinci's sweatshop failed and they formed a union and murdered her.

He tried again, this time in the cafeteria. "What is up, my f-"

"SHERLOCK!" Cú rushed to meet him, hugging him and discretely patting him down to see if he had any kush on him. He did not. "How are you? How's your crack addiction? How's your drug house?"

"Well," he took a long drag of his pipe, which was filled with crack. "In rehab, I had to sustain myself off of bath salts. Its elementary, my dear. They never noticed a thing."


End file.
